


Taking it Back

by TwoCatsTailoring



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:51:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoCatsTailoring/pseuds/TwoCatsTailoring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's had enough of awkwardness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking it Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irishais](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishais/gifts).



He’d had enough of awkwardness. 

At his limit, really. Because Fujin and Raijin hadn’t quite known what to do with him, once he’d gotten his mind back. Because while he’d stood there, so lost and raw and hurt they’d shuffled their feet, not sure if trusting him again was something they could do. 

Same as what Cid had done. Same as Edea though she dressed it with words. No, not words, apologies as if she had any more say over what she’d done than he had. But even that wasn’t the right set of thoughts to have, he’d realized that night as he exited their domain under cover of darkness, the polite conversation and their trying like black claws down his spine again. 

Because Edea’d had no choice. Seifer knew full well that he had. He’d just been too weak to say no.

One does a lot of growing up when the near ruination of the world was something you’d enabled. Hadn’t caused, of course, he’d realized after being spat out of the timestream in some warped world where the only thing that made sense was the sudden and horrific realization of all of the things he’d not done and what they  _meant_.

But that seemed to be long forgotten and it had been a relief almost, to happen upon Rinoa Heartilly, not attached to Squall’s arm for the first time in the two years since  _all of that_  had happened. He still couldn’t give it name, still couldn’t quite manage to do anything but own his culpability in the things that took place. 

Pride prevented him from doing anything too abysmally stupid and his friends, his posse (What was he, 12 or something? Actually, they’d all been 14. Garden warped you a little, though making old and young not measure with mature and immature.) had been welcoming eventually. 

Eventually.

But that was what made Rinoa such a breath of fresh air on that fall day. She’d bee-lined for him, shoving him square in the chest and lighting in to him as if every ounce of her hated every ounce of him. She had a right too, and he’d been just about on the verge of apologizing when he realized something.

She wasn’t angry about  _all of that_.

He had to laugh at her then, and that resulted in her doing that adorable little squinting thing that he’d teased her about so much back when they’d been a thing. She also slugged him in the arm and set into him again, hissing now as a crowd was gathering, about how he was such an asshole, a jerk, and what kind of man….

It was relieving really, the yelling argument that stemmed not from atrocities of war but having been the first to sample her more delicate wares. (Though truth be told there’d been nothing delicate either about the acts they performed or about the utter filth that spilled out of her mouth in the doing of them.) Girls never really got past that, he supposed because she was not the first to having some traumatic emotional reaction to his long-since-removed services. 

But he was a cad, a heartless son of a bitch who only wanted her body then left without a word, snubbing her at the SeeD ball and leaving her high and dry to deal with Cid all by herself.

Pointing out that it seemed to have worked out in her favor after all did nothing to cool her temper and really, he needed to leave then, otherwise he was going to begin crying, laughing at her rage. Plus, she might get lucky and actually hit him in the face or something.

He’d lost a lot, had Seifer Almasy. But he was still young enough to consider himself attractive and not want that damaged by some rogue ex with a bone to pick.

So he’d been a man and walked away. Because someone told him that is what men did and because the last time he’d risen to the bait of a sorceress, well.  _All of that_  happened and he was not about to risk it again. He’d lost everything then, including himself. No spell-slinging bitch was worth the cost of his sanity.

Not again. Not ever again.

But of course, she’d followed. Women, he swore that he was going to become a monk. Or gay. Or date Fujin. He shut that thought off very fast and backtracked to being gay because a little too close to the mark was a little too close to the mark, even in thought processes. She was quiet, uncomplicated, and nothing short of his best friend he did not need to complicate an already complicated relationship by having _feelings_  or some shit like that. 

He would just be gay. Starting right after he dealt with the angry Rinoa who had his cornered now. Timber really was shit for escape routes. Why did he ever come here?

Worthless piece of trash now, toying with her emotions and he blocked the rest of it out because talk about close to the mark. Close was all wrong too, because that pretty much hit it in the head. Cocky, sure. Vain, absolutely. But also now fully aware of his shortcomings thanks to friend and stranger alike hating him for his accessory-crimes.

She got scorn for her anger now, his words hot, laced with wounded pride but cooled under the surface by cold hard truth. If he was worthless what did that make her for being a consenting party to a charming asshole’s advances? What difference did it make now that the  _Commander’s_  gunblade was her’s to ride at will? Or maybe that was her thing, he’d hissed, bending to have his face in hers as she turned three shades of red, cheeks puffing out and eyes all but black from rage. 

Maybe she had a thing for gunblades. He din’t have to remind her that he had only needed one hand to hold his, the other had done a damned fine job making her mewl like a kitten before she moaned filth like a Deling whore. 

He got a rousing slap for that and he deserved it. Knew full well that he did and was again pleased, relieved to be having this sort of nearly public, back alley argument with his ex who was dating his former rival. It was so much better than the side-eyed scorn of everyone else.

She screeched, railed at him more. He’d laughed, taunted her with every possible insult designed to take juvenile advantage of every word she said, twisting it and her until both were wound tighter than a two gil watch.

How the kissing started, he never knew for sure though he suspected that his demanding to know if she stared at the ceiling and thought about him while Leonhart put in his ten strokes had something to do with it. But it did and he wasn’t going to stop it. Even publicly hated men have needs and while his gunblade left a hand free, that was getting pretty old. Her encouraging words helped as well, as did her dispensing with her own pants save time fumbling around in this location that bred more speed that elegance. 

Fortunately, she knew more now than she had before and with her spine arched and her hair in knots in his hand, both found welcome release without alerting too many of the neighboring residents. Or if they did then he was certainly not going to care.

But then came the awkwardness. And he’d had enough of awkwardness so as she stammered and buttoned her jeans, asking him if he was going to tell anyone about this in that bitten-lip, downcast eyes way he didn’t bother to answer. 

It was easier this time, walking away from her. For one she didn’t follow him. But mostly, he decided later that evening over a bottle of scotch and a game of Triple Triad with Fujin, it was easier because he didn’t do it out of shame. He did it out of self preservation.

Life was too short, too precious. He was not going to live his life as an apology any more.


End file.
